Hush
by froomiest bandersnatch
Summary: Greg House is dead.  Who killed him and why?


Disclaimer: I own nothing damn it!

A/N: The story is kind AU. Please review and tell me what you think!

Dr. Gregory House, world-renowned diagnostician, stood outside his patient's room, staring within through the glass. His patient, Drew Quincey, a boy of barely 21, lay in a hospital bed with his eyes fixed on the ceiling vent. He had no family, no friends, no one to comfort him, to hug him. The boy turned his head suddenly and glared at him. House scowled and turned away. He began limping to the elevators, grimacing as his thigh throbbed with pain.

He punched the button with his cane and waited for the annoying ding that announced that the elevator had indeed arrived. He hobbled in and found himself face to face with his team.

"The lab was negative." Cameron showed him the results.

"I don't need to see this. You just told me," House shot her a 'you're an idiot look.' "Start treatment for _lupus_."

"What?" Chase looked dumbfounded. "It's never _lupus_!"

"I know," House said patronizingly.

"Where are you going?" Foreman asked.

"Shoo," he replied with a smirk and jabbed them out of the elevator.

* * *

House barged through the doors of the clinic and made his way toward where Dr. Lisa Cuddy stood conversing with Nurse Brenda. As he drew closer, Brenda rolled her eyes and gestured in his direction. Cuddy turned and House smiled with satisfaction. Cuddy's black blouse did nothing but accentuate her creamy skin and the plunge it took showed her bust off to its best advantage. 

"So what has my favorite she-devil been doing today with her almost as evil accomplice?" House quirked his head and contemplated the pair of them. "Not attempting to convince me to work clinic are you? Because I have a case, and the only reason I'm down here is because I haven't made fun of Cuddy in three hours. You see she has this happy glow. The glow must die." Brenda shook her head and bent her head to mark some forms.

"House," Cuddy began wearily. She crossed her arms tightly across her torso. House leaned foreword. "Eyes on my face," she finished. House frowned. Cuddy spun on her heel and walked toward her office. House lingered for a second to admire the sexy swish of her hips and then followed.

"What do you want?" Cuddy sat down behind her desk and leaned back in her chair. House stood in front of her, putting his weight on his cane.

"What makes you think I want anything?" House widened his eyes in what only could be described as a look of pure innocence.

"Not a day goes by that you don't come barging in here wanting something. From patient consults to sexual favors, I've heard it all from you. So, I repeat, what do you want?"

"Well, Jimmy's telling some poor sucker that he's gonna kick the bucket, Chase and Cameron are making puppy love eyes at each other while unsuccessfully trying to treat a patient, and Foreman…Foreman's black." Cuddy put her head in her hands as House finished. "I'm bored and you look like more fun than anyone else."

"You have a case."

"So?"

"Go treat your patient."

"Never mind…You're no fun at all." House turned around and started walking to the exit, then said, "The 'girls' are falling out." He limped quickly out of the room suppressing a grin as Cuddy looked quickly down at her cleavage.

On his way back to the elevator, it opened and Chase bounded out. He quickly scanned the area and then his eyes registered House. He made his way over quickly.

"The patient reacted unfavorably to the lupus treatment." He said in a rush.

House played dumb. "What does unfavorable mean?"

"He went into cardiac arrest. We don't know how much longer he'll last."

"Damn." House thought quickly and drew his eyebrows together. "Try to keep him stable. I'll be right there." Chase sprinted up the stairs. House lumbered toward the elevator and squeezed in between an obese man and his stick thin wife.

"Sorry," he exclaimed sarcastically. A moment later the doors opened and House was gimping along as fast as he could down the hall. He passed Wilson who stopped and stared.

"What are you doing?"

"Practicing for the 5 K for cripples. Move."

But, he was too late. As soon as he reached Drew's room the monitor flat-lined and he heard Foreman pronounce the time of death. "2:39 P.M.," he intoned solemnly. He watched as Cameron blinked away a few tears, and Chase as he stared avidly at the body, a fierce frown on his face.

* * *

House downed his fourth scotch and leaned farther back in his chair. He lifted his bum leg onto his desk and swung the other up next to it. Closing his eyes, he licked the sticky alcohol of his fingers from where he had spilled it and then massaged his temple. The pain was unbearable. He felt like a hammer was smashing repeatedly against his thigh and no matter how many Vicoden he swallowed would ease the blows. 

Suddenly aware of a presence besides his own, House opened his eyes and saw Cameron standing above him.

"Go away," he growled.

"No," she replied. "You're drunk."

"No shit."

"Chase figured out what was wrong with Drew: it was _vasculitis_."

"How fucking fantastic for him. Get out. Now."

"Alcohol isn't going to help the pain. Let me help you." Cameron found her way around the desk and squatted next to him. She put her hand on his. "I want to help you, House. Please let me." Her eyes glimmered with tears. His eyes blazed with fury.

"Get the fuck away from me! I'm not your next project, not the newest poor fucker for you to save and heal and whatever else you do to them! Leave!"

Cameron stood sharply and clenched her teeth. He had punched a hot button and it hurt. She strode fiercely toward the door, stopped and twisted her head back to face his sorry form. "Go to hell, House," she spat and marched out of the door and away.

* * *

House finished off his sixth drink. His vision was getting cloudy and it was getting late. He was just grabbing his cane when Wilson threw open the door. 

"What did you say to Cameron?" He bellowed. He agitatedly ran his fingers through his hair.

"Nothing she didn't ask for," House sneered. "I'm gonna go bother Cuddy. Wanna come? I hear she's gotta date tonight." He stood and started limping toward the door. Wilson stepped in front of him, blocking the door.

"Hey, House, could you not bother Lisa anymore?" Wilson asks, his jaw clenched tightly and anger taking his place of annoyance.

"Uhhh…" House paused in faux contemplation, "No." He pushed Wilson out of the way and had almost reached the door when her turned and poked Wilson with his cane. "Since when have you started calling Cuddy, Lisa?" He asked suspiciously and fearfully. In his heart the words he knew his friend was going to say would break him.

"Since we started dating." Wilson sighed and closed his eyes. House always had a, what could only be described as a 'thing' with his boss. Although he would never admit he felt anything other than annoyance, and occasionally lust, toward his employer, it was clear to everyone else that there was something more. Unfortunately for James Wilson, just by those simple words, he had just incurred the vast wrath of Greg House.

"Bastard!" House, in a sudden burst of rage (brought on by the Vicoden and alcohol combination tinged with profound jealousy) raised his fist and smacked Wilson hard in the eye. His colleague toppled and House stalked from the room without a second glance at his fallen friend.

* * *

Lisa Cuddy practically jumped when the doors of her office banged open. She looked up, still shocked, and found her face to be mere inches from that of Greg House's. 

"Damn it, House. You scared the hell out of me!" She pulled her face back from his and her cheeks reddened. She stood and walked over to the door, attempting to cover up her embarrassment by using her authoritativeness and making it clear to House that she wanted him out. "What is it this time?" She asked in clipped tones.

"How long have you and Wilson been dating?" House's face was red with anger and he thrust his face into hers once more.

"Excuse me?" Lisa blinked rapidly, unable to quickly comprehend his question. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them toward his chest. Her whole body responded, and gone were the scant centimeters separating their bodies. She felt the heat coursing through him a million miles per hour.

"You heard me." He growled.

"Not long," she stuttered. She began tugging her hands back from him, but to no avail. His grip was vise-like. "House, let go!"

"No." He bent his head toward hers, the alcohol on his breath causing her to turn her face away, sickened. "Look at me!" He cried and pushed her against the door, trapping her.

"You're drunk." She finally looked up at him, her blue eyes wide.

"And in pain." He pressed his body closer to her struggling one. House tilted her face up with his fingers and held her chin in place so she couldn't look away. She gritted her teeth and stared defiantly back at him.

"He offered to be my donor. I accepted. Now, get off me!" Lisa administered a kick to his shin but instead of backing down, House chuckled drunkenly and pressed even closer, almost squeezing the breath from her body.

"Lucky Jimmy." He let go of her chin and began tracing her jaw line, sending shivers up Lisa's spine.

"What's this all about, House?" She cried, getting a little panicky. House was stronger than she was, even with a bum leg. He frowned.

"When did I become House, instead of Greg?" She scowled, remembering their past, as she was sure he was. One of his arms wrapped around her waist. She glanced down at it with some anger in her gaze.

"You tell me," she said furiously. "Maybe it started with you being a cheating jealous bastard!" House looked taken aback, but the look soon passed as rage set in.

"I loved you!" He yelled.

"Yeah right! You loved any woman with a nice ass!" She renewed her struggles against his body. He seized her arms and squeezed with so much force that a cry of pain burst from her throat. He silenced it with a searing kiss.

Time seemed to stop as his hot lips pressed against hers. Her eyes were wide and his were closed in the pleasure of the moment. The moment ended as a furious tapping sounded from behind Lisa.

"About fucking time Wilson." House stepped way from Lisa with a smirk. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes bulged with ire. All he heard was a sharp whistle before her hand descended smartly on his cheek. He rubbed it with a sneer as Lisa grabbed her things and shot him a glare every few seconds. Wilson was glowering at him too, his fists rolled into balls.

As Lisa exited the room, Jimmy put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him.

House shouted after their retreating forms, "She enjoyed it."

* * *

House popped three more Vicoden into his mouth and began tearing his clothes from his body. Warm water was waiting for him. He stepped into the bath tub and sunk down, enjoying the burn of hot water against his skin. 

He grabbed his iPod from the sink and put the ear buds in, setting the device on the small flat space along the edge of the tub. He was drunk as shit and didn't give a damn that he could be electrocuted. He closed his eyes, the Rolling Stones and a hot bath working their magic.

A sudden movement woke him from his stupor. His eyes snapped open, registering that he was not alone.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He screamed.

"Hush," the person said and pushed the iPod into the tub. A shock ran through the length of House's body and he slumped back, unmoving and not breathing.

The mysterious individual surveyed the scene and strolled away, leaving the once-great Dr. Greg House dead.


End file.
